


Are We There Yet

by ColumbiaSkies



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColumbiaSkies/pseuds/ColumbiaSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archie stuck in a car with kidnapped Benny for the 4 hour drive to AC</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are We There Yet

"So, buddy," Benny called from the floor of the back seat. "Do I get to know where I’m going?"

There was no answer from his captor at the wheel. Benny tried to sit up. His hands were tied behind his back so tight they felt cold. His right leg and eye were throbbing, but he kept quiet about that. He wasn’t giving this putz the satisfaction of knowing it hurt.

They had been on the road little more than fifteen minutes. A bit less than four hours left to Atlantic City. He was sure that’s where the car was headed. And he decided it might be fun to make the kidnapper’s life as much of a living hell as he could before they got there.

"You know," he couldn’t help the smile on his face, "This might be a lot easier on you if you brought along a friend."

The man stepped on the gas.

"Oh right!" Benny continued, "You did! That one dumb-fuck whose-it? It was fun blowing his fucking brains out."

The car hit a bump going up on the bridge crossing the state line. Benny winced as his right leg bounced against the back of the seat. “Where the fuck did Thompson pick you up anyway?”

"Senior Thompson hired me when visiting Havana," the man answered somewhat reluctantly.

"Cuba, huh?" Benny carefully shifted his leg to lean away from the seat. "That explains the whole savage trophy ear shit. Raised in the fucking jungle or something? Good old white fuck offer you some fresh American green? Hard to resist isn’t it? Can’t believe if it wasn’t for your tall, dark, creepy ass, we wouldn’t be-"

The Cuban slammed on the brakes, sending Benny smashing into the back of the seat, leaving a smudge of blood. “No more talking,” the Cuban said.

A while of grunts and shuffling passed in which Benny wiggled about trying to sit up against the passenger side door to avoid future slams. Once he did, he saw through the back window that the sun had risen high but not quite noon yet, If that Cuban thought he was out of the fire, he was dead fucking wrong.

"How’s the weather in Atlantic City? Raining Thompson’s piss and tears as usual or…?"

No answer. He didn’t expect one anyway. It didn’t matter, whistling the tune to Swanee didn’t need an answer and neither did the nicely improved raspberry at the end.

Benny let a few moments pass letting a bit of the tension settle before, “Are we there yet?”

He could feel the his captor’s exasperation caused by the sound of his voice. With no reply, he asked louder, “Are we there yet?” Still no answer. “How ‘bout now?… Now?… Or now?… No, no wait, now! Its now. No?… Now?…How ‘bout now?”

"No," the man said.

"Okay," Benny smiled. "Are we there yet?"

"No!" repeated the man.

"You know," Benny said after a couple minutes, once again allowing the Cuban false hope. "I had a lot of coffee this morning. Pretty busy earlier, you think you can pull your ass over?"

"Why?" the man asked.

Benny laughed, “Why? Why do ya think?Just let me take a fucking piss!”

The Cuban looked over his shoulder at him. “You can hold.”

"Gee thanks, mamzer," Benny muttered.

After humming the entirety of Phil Spitalny’s “What the Use?” seven times and tapping the back of the Cuban’s seat with his foot the whole time, Benny began to realize the loss of blood was making him feel dizzy.

"Hey, can I at least get something for my fucking leg?" He called. "I’m bleeding out back here!"

"Is there no way to turn you off?" The Cuban asked quietly.

Benny smiled, “Sorry to disappoint, pal. But there’s a volume dial under my left jewel if you wanna try that!”

The man sped up the car as fast as it could go, passing any car he came across.

Benny laughed, “You getting tired of my yet? We got what two hours? An hour and a half? We can still turn around.”

"Shut the fuck up," The Cuban was starting to get angry, which only made the Jewish man with the bullet through his leg want to keep up.

"You heard the one about the Irish Jersey cocksucker?" he teased. "Got tired of suckin’ his own cock, so he went down to Havana and hired some shady Cuban fucker to do it for him?"

The man’s shoulders haunched. 

"How’s it taste?" he went on. "Never done it myself. The thought makes me wanna vomit, but I hear it like old cabbage and potatoes. What do you like better, the cabbage or the potatoes?"

The car veered off the the side of the road. The Cuban got out, walked around to the side where Benny sat, and flung open the door. Benny’s head smacked the dusty ground hard, making him groan. A knife was pressed to his throat.

"One more word," The Cuban warned, "One more! And I tie to the back of the car, and take you back to your friends. Then we see how much you talk."

Benny tried to swallow but it was hard upside down, “I thought you were supposed to keep me alive there, Jungle fuck.”

The Cuban pressed the knife closer. “I am very close to disobeying. No longer try my patience.”

"Okay, okay!" Benny yelled. "I’ll shut up, no words. I swear."

After about fifteen minutes down the road, Benny assumed the Cuban had calmed down enough for him to start humming and whistling again. Instead of killing him, the Cuban decided to try tuning him out, so he kept going until the car stopped. He did say “no words.”


End file.
